Dead by 24: An Autobiography

Coming To Terms

6th grade was by far my worst year. Someone at school had blabbed about how I was living in a motel alone and Devin found out. Being Devin, he told his group, which had gotten bigger by about 5 kids, and I was relentlessly ridiculed, beaten up, I think one of them even broke my arm, but I never got it checked out. All I knew was it felt like someone had stabbed a knife in my arm every winter. The one semi-good thing that happened that year was that I met a girl. Amara. Amara Rein. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Black and pink hair that flowed down to her lower back. She was about 5'3, a tiny little thing, but she was so kind, and smart, and funny. It was hard not to fall in love. The way she smiled lit up a room. The way she laughed made my heart skip a beat. She didn't know I existed, of course, but I sure knew about her.

I had no idea what being gay was at the time. Actually, I was raised to believe it was bad. I knew I was different, I knew I liked girls. But I always pushed it way down and tried not to think about it. I hated myself for being different. I tried to change myself for years, but the more I tried to change, the stronger my feelings for Amara grew. The stronger my hatred for myself grew. Until December 27th, I heard a knock on my door. It was a faint knock. I'm surprised I even heard it, it was so light. I was skeptical about who it was, because no one knew where I lived. I slowly walked up to the door and opened it a crack. When I made eye contact with who was on the other side. I was in shock. The last person I thought would ever be at my doorstep.

"Hi. Um. I don't know your favorite flower, or your favorite candy, so I guessed. Sunflowers and Hershey Kisses?" Amara said in a soft, high pitched voice. Honestly, I didn't expect her voice to be that high, but it was, and it made me love her more. I had known of this girl all of 2 months, and I was already in love with her.

"Yeah, come on in. I love sunflowers and Hershey Kisses." Truth be told, I never cared for any type of flower, and never had any sort of sweet in my life. But when she said that she guessed that's what my favorite was, it was like I was seeing them in a new light. It was like the flowers had never been more beautiful, and even though it was my first time having any sort of chocolate, the Hershey Kisses were the best thing I had ever tasted.

"So what made you stop by? I mean. I didn't think you even knew who I was." I said as I walked her over to the couch.

"Of course I knew who you were. I've bought your art, and I see you walking into the nurse's office everyday. Its just awful what those boys do to you, but I was impressed that day in 2nd grade when you stood up to them." She said with a small smile on her face and a twinkle in her green, hazel eyes.

I was in too much shock to reply to her. I mean. Why would someone like her, smart, loved, popular, perfect, want to learn and know me, an eleven year old who left home a couple of years ago. My art wasn't that popular, in fact it was dying out, and I wasn't making near as much as I had been. Why would Amara want to be friends with someone like that?

"Hey. What are you thinking about?" She said, waving her hand in my face. I didn't even notice I had zoned out.

"Oh. Nothing. Just what I'm going to have for dinner tonight. Corn dogs or ice cream?" I tried to joke, but she looked almost upset.

"Neither. You should come to dinner with me. My mom will be here in about 5 minutes, I can ask. We're having meatloaf tonight."

What Amara had said to me, 'we're having meatloaf tonight', that was what forced me to say yes. Meatloaf was my favorite dish when I lived with my foster family. I missed having actual food, and a family to eat with. And I thought maybe this would give me a chance to at least be her friend.

"Thank you. That sounds wonderful." I said with a smile. Perfect timing too, because the next thing I knew, there was fingers being interlaced with mine and I was dragged out of my hotel room and down to what looked like a late 70's model of a Dodge Caravan. Amara opened the door and pulled me next to her. This was the closest I had ever been to her and she smelled like strawberry shortcake.

"Mama! Mama! Can we bring Oren to dinner tonight?" Her mom was almost as beautiful as she was. She had medium length, reddish brown hair. Brown eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, and her smile. I saw then where her daughter got her smile from.

"Sure, honey. We can always set another place at the table, as long as her parents are okay with it." Her smile was as big as Amara's was.

"Thank you so much Mrs. Rein. I really do appreciate this. They're okay with it." I said as quickly as I could before Amara's smile faltered.

On our drive home, Michelle, Amara's mom as I came to know, asked me about my life, and why my family and I were all living in a motel room. So I came up with the most believable lie I could in the span of five seconds. We were renting an apartment, but our landlord sold the building and we couldn't afford to rent another until my dad was back working after a back injury. She also started asking me about my art and showed me a picture on her phone of one of my paintings hanging on her wall. I started to tear up, and Amara put her arm around my shoulders, comforting me.

"When Amara told me she had bought some of my work, I didn't figure it would have been a painting, and I definitely never imagined it would be up on a wall."

I was proud of my work, don't get me wrong, but painting and sketching were two different things. I knew my way with a pencil, but I couldn't work a paint brush to save my life until someone told me to trace over the lines I drew. That was a life saver, but it still never looked like I wanted to. This painting wasn't one I had traced. Actually, it was the painting I had done when I first moved out. I was upset and painted a bunch of swirls with different shades of blue, then added a few white and grey clouds with a group of stars here and there. It was nothing special, but for some reason, my gut told me to post it. I didn't ask anything for it, but when I got an offer on the painting, the person offering was persistent and wouldn't take no for an answer. Now I know who it was.
"When Amara showed me that painting, I knew I had to have it. I was an art major back in college and I could feel the emotion behind it. I had never seen anything like it in all my time studying. It was the ultimate masterpiece." She said such admiration for me, I was in awe of her.

After dinner, Michelle took me home. Amara had to stay home and do homework. She was a straight A student, in band, and loved her cat and rats more than anything in the world. It was a fairly quiet ride, other than the soft sound of 80's-90's Country music playing in the background. It didn't take long to get to my motel. Once we got there, Michelle said something that I would never forget for the rest of my life: "I know what it's like to live without your parents as a young kid. If you ever need anything, whether it's a home cooked meal, or a listening ear, here's my number. Call me any time and Ill be here in 3 minutes top." She handed me a piece of paper with her number on it, as well as Amara's. I looked up at her, and she winked at me. And with that, she drove back home.